Dear 2010,

There are years that seem rather amazing in how much change they wreak on a body. The change is continual, with a million whiplash-inducing surprises (pleasant and otherwise) keeping me on my toes.  Years that become watersheds.  2002 and 2003 were like that for me, the pre- and post- Peace Corps bookends of my life.  2005 was like that, the pre- and post- Hurricane Katrina year.  And 2007 was like that, the year I graduated from law school, left my favorite city in the world, moved somewhere that allows one to walk on water in wintertime, started running, started to lose those 80 pounds. 

The years since the move have been momentous in quieter ways, more of a building-up and breaking-down in intimate increments.  All that falling-in and falling-out of love business in 2009-2010 was enough to exhaust me, but good in its way.  And the marathons, the half-marathons, and travels, and new friends were enough to make the crappier bits of this year passable.

2010 wasn't stellar, but it was a solid showing, full of highlights (Barcelona, running a half-marathon with my kid sister, celebrating my 30th birthday with my best best best friend by my side, other smaller, slower moments involving walks to my car in the rain, fireworks, first kisses, groovy bands that left me sweating and disgusting from hours of dancing, perfecting the art of the gingerbread cookie, singing at my Grandmother's piano).  It wasn't a watershed year in and of itself, not a year that I will look back on as particularly remarkable, but it's a year that feels like a beginning of very good, very blessed things.  And those are years worth loving, too.

Thank you, 2010, for being a happy, instructive chunk of experience. Thank you for new friends and new lessons, and the healing of wounds. Thank you for the optimism you've inspired and the miraculous community of family and friends that you've blessed me with to see me on to next year's adventures.  Thank you for providing me, even on the cloudiest days, with endless justification for happiness and hope.

Love,
R